


Hidden in Plain Sight

by DerekMyStiles



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Kissing, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Pseudobulbar affect, Sophie doesn't have a child, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:48:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerekMyStiles/pseuds/DerekMyStiles
Summary: Sophie thought she and Carnival had something special, but he disappears after their amazing night together; only his face paint smeared on the sheets is left as evidence it ever happened.Meanwhile, her neighbour, Mr. Fleck, gets increasingly more creepy around her.
Relationships: Sophie Dumond/Arthur Fleck
Comments: 36
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want Carnival to get some loving, too!
> 
> Basically what the summary says - Sophie has a huge crush on Carnival, and she likes the clown so much she doesn't notice when he is standing right next to her _sans_ the paint. Poor Arthur just can't wrap his mind about Sophie going hot and cold. How could this possibly end?!

He was there every morning when Sophie was going to work. He was there every afternoon when she was going home. Always dancing, always with a smile on his face - real one, not just the painted on one - and always spinning the sign with apparently inexhaustible energy. He was there even when it was raining, his joyful manner not faltering despite the dampness that settled over Gotham like a wet blanket.

Sophie wasn't jealous of him, no, but she felt sort of bummed by his vigour. By the time her shift was over, she was always exhausted, barely managing to stay awake on the train, and dreading the ascend of those horrible stairs. Yet she always took care to give him a smile if their eyes met when she was passing him either in the morning or in the afternoon, and she always blushed furiously when he noticed and gave her a wink, before his face disappeared behind the spinning yellow sign. There was something familiar about him, but Sophie couldn't really place him - possibly he just revived some long-forgotten childhood memory.

She wondered if his ceaseless dancing and spinning actually brought any customers to the music shop that hired him. To her, it seemed like a weird strategy, but then again, maybe the inability to put money into better promotion was the reason the store was closing up. It also seemed pointless to have him there for the whole day, possibly full twelve hours, since she guessed the morning crowd rushing to work didn't have much time to stop and peruse music instruments. Will he be here on the weekend as well? And the next week, too?

Sophie loathed mornings. It wasn't very original, maybe, but she did hate them with every fibre of her being. This one in particular seemed doubly awful, even if it was Friday - it was cold and foggy, air filled with that annoying drizzle umbrella won't hide you from. The coffee she grabbed in the cafe near her home was cold already and tasted disgusting as she gulped it down with a grimace. Peeking into the cup, she was somehow relieved it was mostly gone anyway, only about two centimetres of the cursed liquid remaining.

"ACHOO!"  
Sophie jumped, dropping the cup, remainder of the coffee flying out and landing onto a comically large shoe. It looked soaked through anyway, but Sophie still felt bad about it and even more so when she finally took notice of the shoe's wearer - the clown. She didn't even notice she was already passing the music shop, so lost in her gloomy thoughts she was. He was just wiping his nose on his tattered sleeve, meaning the impossibly loud sneeze that startled Sophie came from him. When he noticed her watching, he quickly dropped his arm, giving her a tight-lipped, embarrassed smile. She couldn't really make out his eyebrows under the blue paint, but it seemed to her he looked apologetic, even as he quickly bent down to pick up her dropped coffee cup.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled as he gave it to her. His voice was surprisingly soft, but even if he didn't sneeze moments earlier, it was obvious that he caught a cold that made him sound kind of funny. Without thinking, Sophie produced a paper tissue from her purse and handed it to him with a smile: "No worries about that, it tasted awful anyway. See you," she said, tossing the empty cup into the trashcan as she left.

Sophie made her way to the laundry room in the basement of the apartment building. The room smelled of mould and was kind of dark, the lights often flickering, but it was warm in there and this early on Saturday, she usually had it all for herself, giving her time to relax and get some reading done. She actually looked forward to doing laundry, even though it probably made her sound super lame. Pushing the door open with her hip, she was startled and slightly disappointed to find out that it was already occupied. The man standing there turned to her at the sound of her entrance - his surprised ang guarded gaze immediately turning into a softer, friendlier one. "Hi," he breathed out with a small smile, and Sophie realized it was Mr. Fleck that lived down the hallway. 

"Hey," she replied, kind of weirded out by his friendliness. They never spoke to each other, except for exchanging curt, formal greetings when they met in the hallway, so his behaviour now was kind of strange. "I guess I will come later," she said, already turning to leave.  
"No, wait!" he called after her, pushing his hair out of his face as she glanced back at him. "I'm all done, just folding it now. The washing machine is all yours," he said, his smile getting even bigger. His voice sounded kind of husky, as if he had a sore throat.

She wasn't very trustful of strangers, especially men, and the idea of being down here with just him for company wasn't making her very comfortable. But Mr. Fleck - she unsuccessfully searched her memory for his first name - never seemed exactly dangerous. He looked meek, underfed, complete wall-flower, unremarkable. Definitely older than her, but probably not as much as his dishevelled appearance suggested. Not that it was a guarantee of anything, but he never really gave out any suspicious vibes. Deciding at last, Sophie shrugged, walking further into the room. "Okay, cool, thanks."

She loaded the washing machine quickly and efficiently, before plopping herself down onto the old chair in the corner, cracking open the magazine she brought with her. She glanced at the man occasionally, how methodically he worked, his hands moving gracefully as he folded one piece of clothing after another. There was something hypnotic about it. Suddenly, he sneezed, startling her from where she was apparently staring at him for god knows how long.

"Sorry! Sorry, still haven't got rid of that cold, didn't meant to scare you again," he said with a sheepish smile, throwing a glance at her.  
She frowned, unsure what he was referencing.  
Seeing her expression, he seemed kind of lost himself, fingers fidgeting with a cuff of a pale blue shirt. "I- I'm Arthur..?" he trailed off, as if he was asking her. "From the-"  
"8J, yeah," Sophie replied, shaking herself. He was just making a conversation, nothing to worry about. Just a dumb, mind-numbing small talk. "I'm Sophie," she added after a second.  
"I know," he smiled at her, his eyes bright.  
"Oookay..." She wondered how he knew that. She was sure she never introduced herself to him before and she had only her last name on her door and mailbox.  
“You seemed kind of sad yesterday..?” he inquired, looking worried.  
She searched her memory for any recollection of meeting, or even just seeing him in passing, but came up with nothing. What was he talking about? “I don’t think we met yesterday,” she said, voice tight, eyeing him dubiously.

He chuckled and he looked away from her quickly, eyes snapping all over the room as his face contorted through several different expressions. She was getting kind of anxious, but before she could come up with any excuse to leave - her clothes be damned for all she cared - he started laughing in full, clutching at his throat. She jumped up, the chair rattling against the wall.  
"Sorry!" he croaked between laughs, one hand patting down his vest.   
Sophie swore she saw her life flash in front of her eyes.  
Then his hand was extending to her, shaking, some sort of card between his fingers. It was obvious he wanted her to take it, but she was frozen to the spot with fear.  
"So- I'm so sorry!" he wheezed, grabbing rest of his clothes as quickly as the laughter wracking his body allowed him, throwing it into his laundry basket, his once methodical folding long forgotten. Once he was done, he was gone in a flash.

Sophie could hear the elevator ding distantly, and then its godawful rattle as it ascended, and only then she allowed herself to move away from the corner she was pressed in. Something on the ground caught her eye and she bent down to pick it up. It was the card he was handing her earlier, and there was something written on it. _Forgive my laughter. I have a condition. (more on back) It's a medical condition causing sudden, frequent, uncontrollable laughter that doesn’t match how you feel. It can happen in people with a brain injury or certain neurological conditions. Thank you! Kindly return this card._

"Oh fuck."

Sophie was feeling awful. She knew that her reaction was sort of justified - you never know in Gotham - but she still felt bad about it. Maybe if she took the card from him, when he tried to hand it to her... But she was just so scared. Well, least she could do was to return it and apologize. She took a deep breath to calm herself and knocked. She thought she could hear the TV from inside and someone walking over to the door, but it didn't open. She tried knocking again and waited for a moment longer, but still nothing, so went back to her apartment. She will have to drop it in Mr. Fleck's, no, _Arthur's_ mailbox with an apology note, then.

Sunday came and went much faster than Sophie would want and yet another Monday was here. On her way to work, she dropped off Arthur's card in his mailbox, and decided to try and forget about it. She wondered if the clown will still be there, or if the shop owner decided to pay for just one week only. She hoped he got over his cold either way. Rounding the corner, she could hear the jaunty piano tune and soon enough she saw flashes of bright green and yellow through the crowd. Sudden sense of calmness washed over her and with a spring in her step, she kept walking. And then there he was, smiling as bright as ever, spinning the sign as he always did. Sophie caught his eye and gave him a bright smile - much wider than any before - expecting the familiar wink in return. But as the clown saw her, his whole face fell, his grin slipping from his face as he quickly glanced away, before turning away from her completely. Stunned and hurt by his sudden disinterest, Sophie just kept on numbly walking to her work. In the afternoon, she took the walkway on the other side of the road, hoping the clown won't notice her pathetic longing stare thrown his way.

The next morning, she wondered if she didn't just dream up their meeting the previous day, because today, the clown gave her a wink as usual and when she turned to glance back at him when she was further down the street, he was still looking after her and gave her a small wave. She felt warm and fuzzy all day, looking forward to seeing him on her way home.

"Hey! Heeey!" Someone was calling down the street, but Sophie didn't see whom through the thick crowd. Not that it concerned her, anyway. "Someone stop them!" Oh, so another robbery in the bright light. Gotta love Gotham. She focused on her surroundings some more - she had no chance stopping the thief on her own, but she didn't want to get in the way of the chase - she saw enough people injured after someone carelessly slammed into them.

A group of teenagers ran by, the tallest carrying some sort of yellow board; it was slightly familiar, but Sophie didn't place it before she saw a flash of bright green and checkered jacket speed by, and she realized at once that it was the clown's sign and the clown himself was chasing after the group. He was surprisingly fast despite his comically large shoes and the fact that he had been here for hours now. Deciding at once, Sophie went after them in a light jog, hoping she won't lose the trail.

But they were much too fast and Sophie stopped next to a dirty alleyway, trying to see over the heads of people around. There was a groan, then, coming from the alleyway and when she looked after it, she could only cover her mouth in shock. The clown was lying there on his back, clutching on his ribs, his yellow sign broken into pieces next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you like it so far!


	2. Chapter 2

Sophie Dumond. Beautiful, young, competent-looking, always in nice clothes. She looked like she knew what she wants and how to get it. Unattainable, so out of Arthur's league he was basically playing different sport. But unlike the other tenants in the building, she always greeted him and never seemed nervous about riding the elevator with him. (That's where he got her first name, he saw it on one of the envelopes she was holding when they shared a ride last summer.) Arthur didn't dwell on it much, though. It wasn't like he was _that_ delusional, keeping any hope she'd be interested even if he tried to get her attention. Which he didn't, because he knew how he looked and how off-putting his behaviour was to others. No need to make a woman living alone uncomfortable in her own place of residence. He saw her very rarely, anyway, for him to try and talk to her.

At least, that was true until he took the stint from the music shop. No other guy wanted to do it, and he didn't blame them. If he had a choice, he'd pass on that too. But money was always tight. So he accepted the hellish hours ( _"From seven in the morning to seven in the evening - be on time!"_ ) and the demeaning job (what was the point of clown spinning a sign in front of a music store?) and the toll it took on his body (by the fourth day, he couldn't feel his legs and his back ached constantly), and thanked his luck that he at least got something long-term for once. And the benefits, however accidental, were nice too. Each morning and each afternoon, Sophie walked by, and every day, she gave him a smile. Pleasantly surprised by that, and surprisingly bold with his make-up on, he always gave her a wink, relishing the way it made her blush.

But he doubted she will be this friendly after what happened in the laundry room… She seemed kind of cold towards him, and when she said they didn’t see each other, he honestly thought his hallucinations came back. And then, well… His _condition_ made itself known.

But now he was lying in a dirty alleyway, right in the puddle judging by the wetness seeping through his jacket, his hand jammed protectively against his crotch, while his whole body screamed in agony at the kicking he just got. The store sign was broken - surely they will take it from his pay - and he honestly just wanted to stop existing. His eyes slipped shut and he took careful, shaky breaths. At least his ribs probably weren’t broken this time. God, he hated Wednesdays.

"Oh my god," someone said and Arthur flinched, thinking the kids returned to finish the job. "Are you alright?"  
He peeled his eyes open and instantly wished he didn't, when he realized it was Sophie kneeling above him. After the incident in the laundry room, he was surprised she even dared to come near him. But she did return his card, even if he only found it last evening when he came home from his shift. She must have dropped it off previous morning, forced to do so when he cowardly didn't open the door on Saturday.  
"Don't move, I will call an ambulance," she said when he didn't reply.  
"No! I'm okay, I'm okay," he wheezed. He couldn't afford a ride in ambulance; did he look like Thomas Wayne? "Just give me a minute."  
"You must be hurt, surely-"  
"Don't call me Shirley," he snorted and then grimaced. God, how much pathetic could he get, really?  
"What? Oh, right," Sophie giggled, and the sound was like a balm for his aching body. "I see the clown has jokes."  
"Yeah, I got them free with the wig."  
She started laughing in full now and man, didn't that feel good, making her laugh. He closed his eyes again, wishing he could hear the sound for the rest of his life.

"You should get up, or your cold will get worse, you're lying in a puddle," Sophie said eventually. He peeked at her through one eye. While he was resting, she apparently put all the pieces of the sign onto one pile, the largest one at the bottom, so that one could carry it comfortably.  
"I guess that's another laundry room visit for me, eh," he mused, hoping he won't make her uncomfortable by mentioning it; silently pleased she remembered him saying he was still a bit ill. But she didn't seem fazed by his comment at all; instead her hands supported him carefully as he picked himself up.  
"Are you sure you don't need medical attention?"  
"Not my first rodeo," Arthur muttered, trying to brush dirt from his pants pointlessly, before picking up what was left of the sign.  
"Let's go get a coffee, at least?" Sophie offered with warm smile.  
God, Arthur would do anything for her if she asked, if it meant she'd always smile at him like that. Maybe he didn't fuck everything up with his stupid laughter? "I'd love to, but I need to get back to the store and explain this," he said, lifting the sign pieces a bit. "Maybe some other time?" he asked, feeling brave. Must be the adrenaline, he thought. Or the fact she was walking unbothered next to him, even though he was dressed like a clown, dirty, wet and smelling like a pile of trash.  
"Sure," she replied easily.

They didn't really talk on the way back to the store; Sophie only asked him if his dancing brought in a lot of people, and he kind of awkwardly shrugged that he honestly suspected it scared people away, instead. He meant it seriously, but she laughed, probably thinking it was a joke, and he let it be. She had a nice laugh.

"When is your shift usually over?" she asked when they were back in front of the music shop.  
"Well, if they don't fire me on the spot now, at seven," he replied. He really, really hoped they won't fire him. Hoyt surely won't give him another chance. Not after that failed birthday party, where he started laughing after one of the kids repeatedly kicked his shin and he got scolded by the kid's mother for making her child uncomfortable when she asked them to stop. She didn't know uncomfortable until he started choking on air, scaring everyone in the room and making the kids cry hysterically.  
"How about I pick you up here on Friday, then?" Sophie offered.  
Arthur was stunned, honestly thinking she asked just in courtesy, but... "Yeah, sure, Friday works for me."  
"Great! Sorry, I gotta go, see you!" she said, smiling before walking away. He was almost in the shop, when she called: "Oh, what's your name?" with a mischievous smile.  
What a silly question, he thought, not sure why she would ask about his clown name when Arthur worked perfectly fine. But, wanting to indulge her, he told her anyway: "It's Carnival!" and with a shuffle and spin he disappeared into the shop. 

Time to face the music. 

Literally.

. . .

So, she had a date with clown that refused to tell her his name. Or his real name, unless his parents actually hated him and really named him _Carnival_. Only once she was home, she wondered if he will be still in his clown make-up when she picks him up, and unless they make a stop at... wherever it was where he changed, she will literally spend her evening with a clown by her side. Somehow, it didn't really bother her. It will still probably be miles better than some other dates she had been on. At least Carnival wasn't a literal clown - something you couldn't say for many men in Gotham - or she hoped so.

She wondered absently how he looked like without the make-up and ill-fitting clown clothes. He had high cheekbones and strong jaw, that much was clear, and beautiful, sea-green eyes. She thought she saw a lock of brown hair peeking from under his wig today. He was a bit taller than her, but not by much, and seemed rather slim. All of those things were a plus on her list of preferences. He also seemed to be funny, sarcastic even, and she knew that was her big weakness. She always had a thing for guys that could make her laugh.

Carnival was there the next day, thankfully, carefully spinning the sign that seemed taped together haphazardly with duct tape. This time instead of winking, he blew her a kiss. 

She didn't see him that afternoon, because she had to run some errands that took her away from her usual path. As usual, the errands proved themselves to be a hell on earth, taking longer to deal with than she'd like to. It was nearly seven when she left the last appointment and she had yet to get home. She decided to stop by the store to pick up a bottle of wine to treat herself. Or maybe, she will get two, in case the date worked out and she wanted to get some of that clown make-up on her sheets. 

She was still smirking about it when she walked into the lobby of her apartment building, but it quickly disappeared once she realized that Mr. Fleck was by the mailboxes. Of course, because she had a shit luck, their paths met by the elevator. 

"Hi," he greeted her timidly.  
"Hello," she replied. She felt her face getting red, guilt filling her again as she recalled under what circumstances she saw him last time. They got into the cabin and he turned to her with a smile as the door started to close.  
"Thanks for the-"  
"Oh, don't mention it!" she said quickly. He didn't need to thank her for returning the card, it was the least she could do. "I hope you're feeling better."  
"I'll be fine. I don't think there is anything broken," he replied with a shrug.  
Anything broken? Why would he have anything broken? She got that unpleasant feeling again; this was the second time he seemed to mention something completely out of place and it was frankly creeping her out.  
"And the owner didn't get mad, so..." he continued, oblivious to her anxiety. His gaze fell to the wine bottles peeking from the paper back she was holding to her chest. "Expecting a company?" he asked with an arched brow and playful expression, leaning towards her a bit.  
What the fuck? How did she miss that he is a total creep? "Uh, yeah, actually," she lied, hoping it sounded truthful. If he thought she won't be alone, he surely won't try anything, right?  
His face fell. "Oh," he muttered, looking crestfallen for a moment before perking up again, giving her a tight smile: "I mean, whatever, it's not as if I expected you to..."  
The elevator dinged, the door opened and Sophie was out before he could finish. "Sorry, I'm in a hurry, see you!" she called over her shoulder, disappearing into the safety of her apartment in a flash.

Time to look for a new flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for your comments!


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur resisted the urge to sit by the door whole evening, checking out whomever was supposed to keep Sophie company tonight. For all he knew, she could just have friends coming over. But... The way she was acting, the dismissive, defensive tone she adopted, well... 

It wasn't like she asked him on _a date_ , he admonished himself, they're just getting coffee as friends. She certainly didn't owe him anything even if it was a date, and he should be grateful she was even willing to hang out with him. So what if she had a boyfriend, or just wanted to date around, it was none of his business. She was much too young, too pretty and too _everything_ for him. Still, he hoped she hadn't made it so obvious to him today.

"I will see you at seven, Carnival" she said to him as she passed him Friday afternoon, wide grin on her face. He grinned helplessly in response. He was indeed so lucky.

As the end of his shift neared, he realized the error in the plan - he won't have time to change. He only had his shoes with him to change into. He didn't want to drag Sophie over half of the city to Ha Ha's just to get rid of the greasepaint on his face and to change into something more presentable (but not actually less worn). But, Sophie seemed to like Carnival better than Arthur anyway. He didn't blame her much - the paint hid his wrinkles and the awful dark circles under his eyes; he supposed he looked a bit younger, less gaunt. He also knew his hair looked awful in the evening, because he never showered at Ha Ha's (not anymore, after what the guys did to him once), so it was always sweaty and matted, especially with this music store gig. The wig might be weird, but at least it covered up the truth. The oversized clown clothes hid his bony body and... yeah. Carnival definitely was a better catch than poor old Arthur, even if his face was just painted on. Somehow, the knowledge made him strangely confident, because you can’t hurt a clown that doesn’t even exist – Carnival can be bold, and flirty, and doesn’t have to worry about a single thing. Arthur can deal with the inevitable fallout.

The owner waved him inside, took the sign, thanked him for his work - it was his last day, after all - and then Arthur was free to go... Except that he was now standing awkwardly by the door, because Sophie wasn't there yet. God, he hoped he hadn't gotten stood up. But there she was, gorgeous in vibrant red dress, huge smile on her face as he offered her his elbow playfully: "Shall we, ma'am?"

They ended up at nearby diner and one coffee turned into a drawn-out meal (Arthur actually ate something for once) and he thought it went just splendid. She was asking about his job, all kinds of questions. Why did he become clown? Did he like his job? Were there many clowns? Was there a school for clowns? What kind of name is Ha Ha's? She listened intently and laughed at his jokes, her eyes sparkling. And in turn, he asked about her job at the bank. And about her studies (he never knew anyone who went to college) and she told him everything without hesitation. If anyone paid attention to his clown get up, he didn’t notice, his focus solely on Sophie, who didn’t seem mind at all.

Once outside the dinner, Arthur grew a bit self-conscious. It seemed strange to share the same way home and he was scared that once back in their apartment building, the spell will break and she will remember all their awkward interactions from last days. But suddenly, Sophie was pressing her lithe body against his and her lips brushed against his ear as she whispered: "Do you want to come to my place?" Shiver ran down Arthur's spine and he just nodded fervently, and then she was laughing, pulling him by his hand towards home.

Before he knew it, the door of her apartment closed behind them and he was pressed up against them, hands full of Sophie, who was currently pressing kisses down the column oh his throat while her fingers were deftly undoing the buttons on his vest. Arthur's mind was swirling and he could just pant for breath as his fingers helplessly spasmed on her hips.

"You- you will get paint all over yourself," he stammered at last, once her hands roamed over his chest now that the vest was out of the way.  
"I don't care," she breathed,   
"I could go home and wash it away-"  
"That would take forever," she said and then she was kissing him hungrily, her hand grabbing on his belt as she pulled him deeper into her apartment.

He was distantly aware that he was kissing her back, but he knew this was too much, too fast, and once he saw her bedroom over her shoulder, he pulled back abruptly. "Wait!"  
"What?" she asked, confused, frowning up at him. She should look ridiculous with the white paint smeared over her face, but woke up inside of Arthur at the sight - he did that, he put the paint there - and he thought it was the sexiest thing he ever saw. "You changed your mind?" she asked softly.  
"No! I just..." God, this was embarrassing. "I've never done... um... well, anything."  
"No way," she breathed.  
"Yes way," he replied awkwardly. _She will kick you out now, she wants a_ man _, way to blow your only chance to do anything with a woman_ , Arthur thought.  
"Your first kiss, too?” she asked and he shrugged helplessly. “Honestly, I can't really believe you, but..." her eyes glinted, "if you're not lying, then it's fucking sexy."  
"Y-yeah?" he stuttered, surprised.  
"I mean, it makes me feel very special, that you’re letting me do this," she said, rubbing her palms up and down his chest.  
"You are very special," he mumbled.  
"Flatterer," she swatted at him with a smile. Then she got sombre. "Do you still want to..? I mean, if you're uncomfortable, then no problem, I don't want to force you into anything, we can just hang out."  
"I want to! Just maybe... not all the way?"

She regarded him quietly for a moment and he dared to move his hand lower, resting it on the curve of her backside, before giving a tentative squeeze. It was as if he flipped a switch. "Okay, okay, fuck, can I blow you?" she was asking suddenly, her breath hot on his neck again. It sounded so vulgar as she said it and Arthur loved every word. "If you- if you want..." Did she? He heard women don't really want to do _that_. “I’m all sweaty…” But Sophie was already manoeuvring him onto the bed and undoing his belt, before quickly snaking up his body to press strangely tender kiss against his lips. "I will wipe you down with a washcloth, yeah? Don’t go anywhere,” she said, disappearing in the adjoining bathroom.

She was back before he could drive himself crazy with nerves, dropping the wet washcloth on the nightstand as she straddled him, resting her hands on his shoulders. “Can I take off your wig?”  
“But my hair-“  
“Yeah, I want to see it,” she breathed. How was any of this happening, Arthur didn’t know. No woman ever paid him any attention and now his lap was full of this beautiful, vibrant girl who seemed to be absolutely crazy for him. She pulled off the wig slowly, revealing his curls, and suddenly she was pressing her chest against his with a breathy moan, giving him a quick kiss as her fingers tangled in his curls, pulling a bit. “God, how are you real?”  
“You like it?” he asked, surprised by her reaction.  
“Nothing gets me going like a man with long curly hair,” she whispered with urgency.  
“Glad I didn’t cut it then,” he chuckled.  
She pulled back a bit, “Sorry, I just. I’m not normally so… _needy_ …” she blushed, “You’re just very…” she pressed another kiss to his lips, her tongue slipping into his mouth and he moaned at the new, exciting sensation, clutching at her hips. He didn’t know why she was apologizing; it felt amazing to him, how much she enjoyed being with him like this.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” she whispered, kissing him again, before she undid his shirt buttons, exposing his chest. She ran her fingers lightly over the bruises there, making his muscles jump. She undid his belt slowly, chucking at the hiss he let out when her hand bumped against the bulge in his pants. Then she was pulling down the zipper and Arthur’s breath quickened until stopping altogether, as she leaned down to rub her cheek against his erection over his briefs. “Oh god,” he breathed as she urged him to lift his hips and pulled both his pants and underwear down. Sophie then stretched over him, grabbing the washcloth, before moving it tantalizingly slow up and down his now fully erect penis, staring into Arthur’s eyes the whole time. “There, all squeaky clean,” she said, throwing the washcloth back on the nightstand, before settling herself more comfortably between his legs.

Finally, her fingers wrapped around him, giving him a few slow, careful tugs, before she ran her tongue all up the underside, sucking the head into her mouth without hesitation. “Oh god, oh god,” Arthur muttered, his fingers clenching and unclenching in the bedsheets as he trembled, trying not to move his hips. Soon, he was sucking at him in earnest, her hand covering what her mouth couldn’t as she moved up and down steadily, pulling embarrassing little sounds from him effortlessly.

Arthur never felt anything so good before, but all too soon he felt the familiar tug in his abdomen. “Sophie! Sophie, I’m gonna!” She hummed once, pulling away and moved her hand on his cock quickly until he finally spurted, his come landing all over his belly. Arthur laughed breathlessly, trying to catch his breath as Sophie curled to his side, wiping him down with the washcloth carefully, making him hiss as the wet cloth dragged over his still sensitive cock.


	4. Chapter 4

Sophie didn’t remember when was the last time she got so excited giving a blowjob. (Or the last time she felt such instant connection to anyone, much less the last time she took someone home after just one date.) But Carnival’s little whimpers, the way he clutched at the sheets, how he tried not to move his hips and just accepted whatever she gave him… God, it was so empowering, so exhilarating, so… She leaned up, taking notice of Carnival’s blissed out expression, before pulling him into a slow kiss.

“Was it good?” she asked. She wasn’t exactly worried about her performance, but still, it was his first time and she wanted to make it memorable.  
He snorted: “Do you have to ask? It was perfect!”  
“Good,” she said, kissing him again.  
He pulled back, looking at her, clearly nervous: “Um… Would you- would you let me, uh, r-return the favour?”  
“If you want to, sure,” she replied, trying to keep her excitement from showing. Maybe she just had a shit taste, but there weren’t many guys who wanted to reciprocate just because. She kind of hoped it wasn’t just beginner’s enthusiasm, and she hoped she will get to find that out. She hoped she will get to call him something else than Carnival, eventually, but if she was being honest with herself, the mystery aspect was kind of working for her now.  
“I do! But…” he hesitated, “You will have to tell me what to do.”  
“Oh, don’t worry, I can work with that,” she said with a smirk, before getting up from the bed.

His eyes were on her the whole time as she shimmied out of her dress. His breath caught audibly when she took of her bra, and he looked ready to pass out when her panties followed. “Take of your shirt,” she suggested, wanting them to be on equal footing. She giggled as he got tangled in the sleeves as he tried to take it off as fast as possible, but then got serious when she noticed how skinny he really was. He caught the change in her expression and clutched the shirt to his body, clearly uncomfortable. “Sorry, s-sorry, I know I’m not-“ he babbled, but she was straddling him in a flash, prying the shirt from his fingers. “It’s okay, no worries, I just got a bit worried for you,” Sophie whispered, “Do you still want to continue?”

He nodded and she grabbed his hands, putting one on her hip and the other on her breast. His hands were a bit cold, but she didn’t mind, because the one on her breast started kneading it carefully, his thumb brushing against her nipple, sending a spark of pleasure down her spine. “Oh,” Carnival said, moving his other hand to her other nipple, repeating his previous motions. “Yeah, like that,” Sophie sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. She pressed her nose into his soft curls, inhaling his unique scent. Suddenly, he was pressing himself forward, and then his mouth was on her nipple, gloriously warm and wet, and Sophie let out a loud moan. He was certainly a fast learner, she thought, as he sucked and licked on her nipples, switching between them, his teeth carefully crazy the buds every now and then.

Not being able to hold back any longer, Sophie grabbed for his hand again and pushed it between her legs. She took his index finger and pressed it against her clit. “You feel that?” she breather out and he moaned around her nipple in agreement, making her shiver. “That’s my clitoris. Rub at it with your finger. Yeah, you can go a bit harder. Yeah, yes, oh, just like that, you’re doing _so good_ ,” she moaned. She slid her fingers into his hair, clutching his head to her chest where he was still nipping at her breasts.

His finger slipped then, sliding between her folds, and he jerked back. “Sorry, sorry!”  
Sophie kissed him, hands on his shoulder. “It’s okay, do that again.”  
“You’re so wet,” he wondered breathlessly as he put his finger back where it was before, feeling around a bit.  
“Your fault,” she teased and Carnival tensed.  
“I didn’t- sorry!”  
She giggled, “No, baby, it’s a good thing.”  
“Oh… oh!”  
“Move your finger down a bit, yes, now push up, slide it inside,” she instructed, sitting up a bit to give his hand more room.  
“Oh my god,” he choked out as his finger slipped inside of her. He moved it in and out slowly, as if he was testing the water, and Sophie whimpered with how good it felt.

“I want to taste you,” he husked after a minute of fingering her and rubbing her clit with his thumb, turning her into a shaking mess with every brush. “You don’t have to-“ Sophie started to say; she didn’t want to scare him away. He might be enthusiastic, but most of the men she had been with always felt put off when she asked them to go down on her. “Please,” he stopped her and before she knew it, he had her on her back, her hand landing on the pillow, and he was shouldering his way between her legs with more boldness that he showed whole night.

He just stared at her for a moment, his breath hot between her legs, and Sophie was about to tell him off – it was making her feel exposed and self-conscious – but then his lips were on her clit, sucking, and she forgot everything. There was no way this was his first time, but she couldn’t care less, because he already had her on the edge of orgasm. She dared to look down on him and the sight punched her breath out of her – his eyes were boring into hers as his mouth and tongue worked tirelessly over her clit, down to her slit and back again, his hair curling around his face. She lifted a shaky hand to brush the hair away from his forehead and his eyes slipped shut. She lost track of everything then, only feeling that remained was the intense pleasure of his mouth on her and his finger – no, two of them - slipping inside once more to _curl_ _up_ and then she was shaking and convulsing, his thighs clamping on his head as he moaned against her.

His voice eventually roused her, “Shit, I got cum on your sheets, jesus, I’m sorry!” But all she heard was that he just came from going down on her and she was pulling him up and up, crashing their lips together hungrily. “Stay the night?” she gasped between kisses, relieved when he didn’t protest. The paint on the lower half of his face was already mostly gone, probably smeared all over her breasts and inner thighs. She noticed a scar above his upper lip. She will have to ask about it someday.

She curled up against his side once she cleaned them both up. He was in his briefs again and she pulled on her panties before they snuggled up together under the blanket. He was already asleep when she took another peek at his face. She was quickly lulled to sleep by steady rise and fall of his chest under her cheek.

_I’m gonna be right back, kitten._

Sophie roused slowly, warm and content, stretching lazily. She reached for Carnival, but – he wasn’t there. The bed was still warm, and she listened closely for any sound coming from the bathroom or kitchen, but heard nothing. “Carnival?” she called. No reply. She flopped back against the pillow with a sigh. She really though that they had something special, but… clearly, she was wrong.

Eventually, she dragged herself into the kitchen, wrapping the bathrobe around herself as she went. Just as the water she put down for coffee was about to boil, the apartment door opened quietly and a man slipped inside. She caught a flash of brown curls, thinking that maybe Carnival came back, but when the man turned, her blood ran cold.

“Oh, you’re up!” Arthur Fleck said with a smile, as if he didn’t just barge into stranger’s apartment. “Did I wake you?” he asked, oblivious to her shock. “Sophie?”  
“What the fuck are you doing?” she asked finally, her voice shaky.  
He seemed surprised by her question. “I was… I thought we could get breakfast together?”  
“A breakfast?” she echoed, feeling paralyzed by fear. She eyed the knife she left in the sink yesterday morning, wondering if she will be quick enough to grab it.  
“Yeah? I just- I just needed to take my meds, and I figured I would shower and change, too…” he seemed uncertain now, blush his on his cheeks.  
“Leave or I will call the police,” she said, trying to make herself sound unafraid.  
“I don’t-“  
“Leave now!” she snapped.

He stared at her for a moment, hurt expression on his gaunt face, eyes bright with tears. He started to laugh and shake his head, but finally he turned, opened the door and left. Sophie was locking it behind him in a flash and she could hear him laughing in the hallway, the sound eerie and haunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sophie had sex with our favourite clown! What a lucky girl, right?!  
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur didn’t leave his apartment the whole weekend, scared of running into Sophie, and too depressed to do anything anyway. He just lied in the bed the whole time, crying and laughing, his head hurting and his heart broken. He just didn’t understand.

How did the best evening of his life end up like that? He woke up from the best sleep he ever had, Sophie curled up in his arms and he felt so blessed. He just went to get his meds, knowing he can’t skip, and took the time to finally wash away what was left of his clown make-up, and change into clean clothes. Was she angry that she woke up alone? He thought he’d let her sleep, since she looked so peaceful, just whispered to her quietly that he will be right back. Or maybe she really just preferred his clown persona and wasn’t able to stand the look at the real him? Perhaps she was supposed to meet the same person she spent the night with on Thursday and he was just a way to pass time? Was she putt off be his inexperience? She seemed to enjoy what he did, but what does he really know about pleasuring a woman? Maybe she just pretended to enjoy it and hoped he’d get the hint…

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about all the possibilities, torturing himself with them well into the early Monday morning. Well, at least he didn’t have to get up for work, now his gig at the music shop was over.

. . .

Sophie spent whole weekend moping and, unfortunately, checking free apartment listings. She liked this place, it wasn’t all that bad, but her neighbour seriously freaked her out. She wondered what Carnival would do if he wasn’t already gone, but… Well, he was, so what was the point in wondering and imagining him swooping in and kicking Fleck out?

She really didn’t think he was the type to fuck a girl and leave before she wakes up. And he didn’t even fuck her, she laughed bitterly. Who knew if he was really a virgin as he said, it didn’t seem all that plausible. He seemed like a normal, decent guy, was funny and nice – at least until she woke up alone. If he didn’t, at least, leave her pillowcases covered in his clown paint. And to think she was actually wishing for that earlier that week!

Monday rolled around and here she was, flitting all over her apartment, trying to pull her pants up, when she noticed a flash of yellow peeking from under her couch. Confused, she bent down to pick it up, quickly realizing what it was. Carnival’s mustard yellow vest. She must have thrown it there that night and he probably couldn’t find it in his rush. Well, what was she supposed to do with it now?

In the end, she stuffed it into her purse, intending to just give it back to him outside of music shop, not saying a word to him, making a point of how much she didn’t care that he left – even though she cared way too much.

But apparently the universe – and Carnival – just wanted her to suffer, because he wasn’t there. The shop was closed, the clown gone and Sophie was fuming.

It became a bit of an obsession, maybe. She just felt like the vest was mocking her from where it was draped over the back of one of her chairs. She just had to return it. So, she looked up the address of Ha Ha’s and headed straight there from work on Tuesday.

The building was old and somehow looked even more run-down than was the norm for many buildings in Gotham. Heavy steel door served as an entrance and “Ring the bell!” was written on them. And so she did. After a few moments, shrill sound of buzzer made her jump, and she opened the door with an effort before ascending a dimly lit staircase. For a place that hired out clowns, it was astonishingly depressive. The staircase opened into a hallway on the right and large room, where several men were sitting in various state of undress and clown get-up. They all turned to look at her.

“Um, hello?” she offered, hesitant.  
“Yes, hello, how might I help you?” A man was walking towards her down the hallway. He looked kind of sleazy, and all the men in the room turned back to their respective tasks when they heard him. The boss, then.  
“I’m looking for Carnival,” she answered. At that, all the men in the room visibly perked up again.  
“Carnival?” the boss asked, “Damn, what did he do this time?”  
“I just wanted to return this,” Sophie said, taking the vest from her purse.  
“What’s that?” the guy asked.   
“It’s Carnival’s vest,” Sophie said.   
“So you didn’t come to complain? He didn’t ruin your party, made the kids cry?”  
“No? Why would he do that?”  
“Well, I have no idea, the guy’s a freak! What’s with the laughter, eh?”  
“Is he here?” Sophie asked, impatient. God, she should have just thrown the vest into the trash and be done with it.   
“Thank god, no! Wait a minute,” the guy said, narrowing his eyes, “Where did you get it?”  
“Uh…”  
“Is he doing private show now, he got a side job? Because that’s against his contract!” he yelled, waving his arms around. Was he on drugs? He looked like he was. “Now, that’s the last straw! I’m gonna fire that weirdo!”  
“No, wait!” Sophie interjected. Jesus, she didn’t want Carnival to lose his job over something so dumb. “We were on the date, he forgot it in my apartment! I just want to return it to him.”

The silence was deafening. The boss slowly ran his eyes up and down Sophie’s body, making her uncomfortable. Then, he started laughing hysterically. “Guys, did you hear that? Our boy Artie had _a date_ with this lovely lady!” The men in the room all started laughing, except for the small one sitting away from the main group. Shaking his head, he walked up to Sophie, giving her a tight smile. “I’m Gary, sorry about them. I will give the vest to him if you want,” he said. Sophie gave him a grateful smile, handing him the vest with thanks. Not wanting to wait around for whatever else the asshole boss had to say, she left with a little wave to Gary. The heavy steel door rattled shut behind her.

. . .

“So you have a side job?” Hoyt asked him, sitting behind his large desk like a king.  
“What?” Arthur asked, confused. He hoped Hoyt called him in to discuss a new gig or even, maybe, to tell him he did a good job in front of the music shop, but clearly, he was wrong.  
“A side job? That’s against the contract the signed, you know? You can read, can’t you?”  
God, Arthur hated Hoyt so much. If he didn’t love being a clown, he’d have quit ages ago. “Of course I can,” Arthur said, “And I don’t have a side job. I was in front of the music shop for two weeks, twelve hours a day!”  
“Yeah well, a chick brought your vest in yesterday. She was hot. Told us you forgot it after a date with her. Now, look, I’m not dumb. There is no way she was telling the truth,” Hoyt said with malicious chuckle.

Oh, so that’s where the vest came from. He knew he left it at Sophie’s place, but didn’t dare to ask back for it. It hurt, to realize she went all the way to Ha Ha’s instead of just dropping it at his place. She could have just left it on the floor in front of his door for all he cared, but… She didn’t.

“So, about that side job-“  
“There is no side job!” Arthur yelled, roused from his thoughts by Hoyt’s unpleasant voice. “That was Sophie. We were on a date…” Were they? He knew how it ended, but she never actually said it was a date. Was that his first date? Not that it mattered. “I forgot the vest at her place, couldn’t ask her to give it back. It didn’t… It didn’t work out.”  
“Oh, so she isn’t blind after all?” Hoyt laughed, waving him out of his office.  
Arthur left without another word.

Arthur dragged himself home. He doubted that Hoyt will give him any job for another week or two, now that he got a chance to chew him out again. He was incredibly glad that the music store owner slipped him ten dollars on the side, otherwise Arthur wouldn’t be able to get groceries. Yet again, he was thankful that his meds mostly supressed his appetite. He couldn’t imagine how would he survive if he actually had to eat as much as any normal human did.

Surprisingly, Hoyt gave him a call next Monday. He laughed at Arthur for five minutes straight, mostly about his failed date, but the call ended with a job offer. Apparently, some dude with a car dealership saw him spinning the sign and wanted him to do the same for his business. Arthur accepted, even though he was already dreading the strain it will put on his body again. Starting Friday, for seven days, what a joy.

It was only Sunday, and Arthur was ready to die. It was raining since Thursday, and Arthur was standing in the rain for three days straight, spinning a sign that was twice as heavy as the one the music shop had. His whole body ached, muscles trembling when he tried to relax, waking him up in the middle of the night. It was on the other side of town as Ha Ha’s as well, so Arthur had to change at nearby public bathroom – no need to mention how filthy it was – and so he had to carry his clown get up and make-up with him all the time.

Arthur was basically asleep on his feet as he shuffled into the lobby of his apartment building. That was probably why he didn’t notice Sophie in there as he walked in. He only realized she was there once he was standing next to her waiting for elevator.  
“Oh,” he said intelligently. She was looking at him warily. “I will take the stairs,” he mumbled. He might pass out on second floor, but it was still preferable than enduring the expression on her face.  
“Nah, it’s whatever, let’s share,” she said, surprising him. She seemed kind of put out, the spark in her eyes gone, as if she just didn’t care about anything anymore.  
Well, he won’t argue with her.

Because Arthur had apparently a shit luck, the elevator got stuck seconds after it started its journey.


	6. Chapter 6

Sophie just didn’t care if her neighbour murders her in the building’s filthy elevator. She was just done. She had no idea how did Carnival manage to get under her skin like that after just one date and night, but he did and it left her confused and hurt. She had some shitty dates before, but no guy ever just disappeared on her like that. And she never liked any of them enough to care, anyway. She was slowly slipping into sort of numbness about everything.

She really couldn’t care less if her creepy neighbour shared the elevator with her. Damn, she wasn’t even surprised when the elevator got stuck. Fleck wasn’t paying her any attention anyway. In fact, he was slumped against the wall, head tilted back, only its right profile visible to her. His eyes were closed and his breathing even, as if he was asleep. Might as well use that as an opportunity to really look at him.

He was a bit taller than her, even though he was hunching over now. His clothes were rumpled and looked mostly like something an old man would wear; the clothes were hanging loosely on his skinny body. He had brown hair, long enough to curl under his ears – it reminded her of Carnival, and maybe under other circumstances, she’d find that observation funny. He had a strong jaw and a…smudge of white paint under it? He had thick, heavy brows that hid his sunken eyes, and prominent nose. He looked exhausted. Still, he wasn’t exactly unattractive, what with the high cheekbones and the easy smile he showed her a few times before. But what’s the point of being handsome, if you’re a weirdo? She felt a bit bad about that thought – if his card wasn’t fake, he obviously had some serious issues. She always thought about herself as a good person who wouldn’t judge anyone too harshly, but surely one had to draw a line at strangers breaking into her apartment, no?

His hand must have twitched, because his bag crinkled where he held it. Sophie’s eyes snapped to it and she froze, stunned. She could swear the checkered jacket peeking out of it was Carnival’s. She leaned forward a bit, trying to see better and, sure enough, she saw the damned yellow vest. What the hell? Where did he get Carnival's clothes? There was no way it was just a coincidence. Maybe he saw her with Carnival, or him leaving her apartment that morning. Did he steal the clothes? What if he hurt Carnival and that's why Sophie never saw him again? What did he even want to do with a clown costume? She didn't know what to do, paralyzed with fear. She wanted to confront him, but who knew what this obsessed man would do if she did. She just couldn't come up with any explanation that didn't make him having Carnival's clothes an absolutely terrifying thought. She needed to get out of this damned elevator and call the police.

As if it was a result of some divine intervention, the elevator jerked into movement at that very moment. Fleck drew in a shaky breath from where he was still slumped in the corner, and with his eyes still closed he mumbled, voice barely above whisper: "I don't get it, kitten. I just wish you told me what I did wrong…"

_Kitten._ That's what Carnival called her in her... dream?

Suddenly, the realization hit her.

The brown curls. The smear of white under his jaw. His chin. His hands. The scar above his lip that she could see as he turned his face to her. His _sea-green eyes_ suddenly staring back at her with intensity, his desperation and pain clear as a day reflected in them.

. . .

He stood in the very corner of the elevator cabin, putting as much distance between himself and Sophie as possible. He slumped against the wall, closing his eyes, already trying to picture himself falling onto his bed - the only thing he had to look forward to.

He could hear Sophie breathing, and smell her perfume - it made his stomach clench painfully. He could feel her staring at him. His treacherous mind supplied the memories of their night together - how she clutched his head to her breasts, fingers tangled in his hair; how she convulsed and shook in pleasure under his touch; how pliable, soft and warm she was in his arms when he woke up next morning. How she threw him out barely half an hour later, her eyes scared and cold.

"I don't get it, kitten. I just wish you told me what I did wrong," he murmured then, unable to help himself, spooked into action by the jerk of the elevator as it started moving again. He heard how her breath caught at that. Some part of him wished he knew how to be cruel, how to hurt her with some aloof statement about how little she meant to him. About how he didn't care about making her smile; how he just wanted to use her and leave her be; how she didn't matter to him at all. But even as he thought that, he felt guilty, because he knew none of that was true. And even if it was, what would be the point in that? She didn't want him, and no amount of his kindness or cruelty could change that. He had to respect that and leave her be.

He dared to look at her then; decided this was the last time he'd allow himself to do so.

She looked... scared, of course, everyone always did around him. Surprised, maybe at the impudence of him even daring to speak to her now. Mostly, she just looked confused, like she was just realizing some new, awful truth - likely how desperately, hopelessly in love he was with her after just one fleeting moment he was allowed to spent with her.

The elevator dinged and she was out of the door before it even fully opened.

Painful laughter tore itself out of his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

Sophie called in sick for the whole week, packed her stuff and left. 

One of her college friends had a small cabin about twenty miles for Gotham, and Sophie finally took her up on her repeated offer to just use it whenever. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by woods, creek bubbling cheerfully down the hill just behind the back porch, no light pollution to obscure the stars as Sophie sat on the stairs leading up to the front door, drinking wine straight from the bottle, trying to just forget everything.

It still didn't make any sense. In fact, it made less sense the more she thought about it. There was no way that charming, funny and absolutely delicious Carnival was the same man as Arthur Fleck, her shy, unremarkable and creepy neighbour. But even drunk out of her senses, she knew now that what she considered creepy and absurd coming from Fleck, made perfect sense coming from Carnival. She was apparently just too blind to see that the clown and her neighbour were one person.

She understood, now, his bewildered expression when she didn't react to him in the laundry room. Understood why Carnival ignored her the very next day, most likely embarrassed and hurt. Realized, tears streaming down her face, that Carnival didn't just leave before she woke up, he came back wanting to have a breakfast with her as _Arthur_... And she went and ruined it all, and – what’s worse – was cruel to him while doing so.

She could still hear his chocking laughter that followed her down the hallway when she fled the elevator. That was the third time she triggered his condition, and those were only the times she knew about. How could she be so awful? There was no way he’d ever forgive her, if he even believed she was too dumb to even realize it was him and him alone the whole time.

God, but she had to try. She has been moping here for… what, about a week now? She ran out of all the wine and she had to go back to work anyway. But first and foremost, she had to apologize to Carn- _Arthur_.

Sophie wanted to come up with a plan. She didn't think Arthur would open the door if she just came knocking. She knew she wouldn't if it was her in his place. She considered waiting for him in front of Ha Ha's, but she didn't know his shifts or if he even had any work now (he mentioned that his boss sometimes leaves him hanging for weeks without a gig). Besides, she wasn't interested in meeting his colleagues again and suspected they might have bullied him about whole thing a little, considering everyone's reaction to him going on a date with her. She felt sorry for him again, as she did many times over the past week; his colleagues seemed mean, with the exception of Gary, and probably weren't very nice to Arthur. And his boss was an absolute nightmare. She couldn't imagine working with those people. But she recalled how excited he seemed when he told her all about his job; it was clear he loved being a clown, despite the way he was treated. Maybe should could write him a letter and hope he won't just throw it away? Or keep an eye out every time the elevator rattled up to their floor, and hope to catch him in the hallway?

She was so lost in her thoughts going home from work, that at first, she didn't even notice him. He was sitting on the stairs in the lobby of their apartment building, head in his hands, the green wig lying on the floor next to him. Blood was dropping from his nose onto the floor; a small puddle already formed where it fell. 

Sophie was next to him in a flash. "What happened?"  
He groaned, not lifting his head to look at her. "Please, just leave me alone."  
She knew why he said that, and if he wasn't hurt, she'd have granted him that wish. "You're bleeding."  
He snorted, spurting blood on his vest, "I noticed. That happens when you get punched in the nose."  
"You need to tilt your head back, put something cold on the back of your neck," she said, hands hovering awkwardly over his slumped frame.  
"I know that," he said, annoyed. "Once my head stops spinning, I will get right to that, don't you worry."  
"Let me help you," she pleaded with him.  
He sighed, long and deep. Finally, he said: "I don't think it's a good idea. It doesn't even hurt as bad."  
_As bad as the way you treated me_ , Sophie finished the thought for him. Still... "Arthur, please, let me help and explain. I know I don't deserve second chance, but at least allow me to help you."

He lifted his head slowly, hair falling in his hair. Sophie gasped at the sight. His clown make-up was smudged; there was a cut above his left eyebrow and his nose looked a bit swollen; trail of blood run down from it, over his mouth and down his chin. His eyes were dim, all spark gone. He blinked slowly at her; she worried if he didn't suffer from concussion. 

"Okay," he mumbled finally. "Okay, but... I don't think I can walk on my own."  
"It's fine, you can lean on me."

It wasn't all that hard to get him into the elevator and then into her apartment. He was so skinny she had no problem holding him up. She sat him on her bed, helping him sit up against the headboard; taking off his jacket and shoes. She fetched frozen peas from her freezer and wrapped it in a dish towel, before pressing it carefully against the nape of his neck, tilting his chin up gently with her fingers. He shivered when she let them trail down his neck, resting them against the pulse point near his clavicle.

"Don't fall asleep on me, okay?" she whispered, and he opened one eye to look at her. "It's not a concussion if you worry about that," he said, "That feels different." The implication behind that statement was clear - he dealt with this often. "But I won't, even if I wanted to," he trailed off as she got up to go to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth.

His eyes were closed again when she kneeled next to him on the bed. Still, he caught her wrist with unnerving accuracy, before she had the chance to press the wet washcloth against his cheek.   
"Don't," he warned.  
"I just want to clean you up," she explained.  
His fingers twitched where they were still wrapped around her wrist. "We both know you don't like the person behind the clown mask," he said, voice flat and defeated.

Sophie bit at her lip. It was true, wasn't it? At least up until few days ago. Still, she carefully pulled her wrist from his hold and, sliding her free hand under his jaw, she started wiping the paint and blood away from his face, working slowly, but methodically. Gradually, Carnival disappeared in a smudge of colours, and Arthur Fleck emerged in his place.

"There you are," Sophie breathed out once she was done.  
He was staring at her now that he no longer felt the washcloth on his face. He gave her a mean looking smirk, "Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint."  
"You didn't, you don't," Sophie nearly cried, brushing her thumb against his cheek where her hand still rested against his jaw.  
"You don't have to lie-"  
But she didn't, couldn't let him finish, pressing her lips against his carefully, mindful of his still tender nose. A whimper escaped him, breaking her heart. "I didn't know," she said.  
He frowned, not following, "Didn't know what?"

She climbed over him to settle down in his lap; his hands immediately going on her thighs, anchoring her; it didn't seem he even realized he did that. Holding his face in both of her hands now, she kissed him again, pulling back finally to say: "I didn't know you are Carnival. That Carnival is _you_."  
He tried to pull back, but she didn't let him; he gave up the fight quickly. "Look, it's fine," he replied finally after taking a deep breath, "You don't want me like this, I understand, you don't have to pretend to... I don't even know what, really."  
Sophie sniffled, pulled her hand back to wipe away the tears that rolled down her cheek. "I'm not pretending. I know it sounds stupid, that _I'm_ stupid, but I really _didn't know_. I don't know how I didn't see it, but I was so focused on Carnival, that _Arthur_ completely escaped my attention."

His hands twitched on her thighs then, sliding up a bit. He looked deep in thought for a few moments, before he looked at her with speculative gaze. "I must have looked like a total creep."

. . .

Sophie laughed wetly at his remark, wiping at her tears again. He kind of hated how he positively melted at the sight of her smile. It felt dangerous, to be this vulnerable to someone's actions and feelings; he knew she could crush him forever with just a few words if she wished to. But her soft, tearful gaze left him hoping she won't do that, not on purpose, anyway.

She got sombre, then, straightening a bit on his lap - _she was on his lap, warm and solid under his hands_ \- looking cornered again. "Will you ever forgive me?" He surged up then, capturing her lips with his and kissing her hotly, wishing he could say everything with this kiss as he angled her head a bit with his hands on her jaw. He pulled back, eventually, panting. "I already did," he whispered before kissing her again, softer this time, more tenderly. Her hands were on his chest, fingers spasming against the material of his vest and shirt, as she squirmed on his lap. She had him straining against the fly of his pants in no time.

"Sophie..." he said as she kissed down his throat, making his skin tingle. "Sophie, I want you so much it hurts, please."   
She pulled back at that, her cheeks flushed, chest heaving. "Oh, right, sorry. I will stop," she replied, getting up to clamber off him.  
He caught her by her hips. "No, what? Where are you going?"  
"You got hurt, lost blood. I don't think we should..."  
"I think I have enough blood where I need it," he husked, thrusting up against her to let he feel his hardness, trying to look at her seductively - but he already felt his lip twitching up as she slapped hand against her mouth, trying not to giggle.   
"You're so cheesy," she laughed, settling down against his chest, tucking her face against his neck as he hugged her.  
"You love me anyway, though," he said without thinking.  
Sophie tensed up, before she pulled back slowly to look at him; he waited with bated breath for her reaction, absolutely sure he fucked up big time with that off-handed comment. But she was smiling softly as she admitted: "Yeah, I kind of do, Arthur."

. . .

It wasn’t always easy, after. He had a lot of issues, and she had a lot of guilt. But he loved her, and she loved him, and somehow that was enough.

And if Arthur sometimes “forgot” to wash his clown make-up away before coming home, with sole purpose to make Sophie squirm and gasp for more as he rubbed it off all over her body, well… That was just between him, her and Carnival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, so that's it! Thank you for sharing this ride with me and thank you for all of your lovely comments and kudos!


End file.
